


so fond and so wondrous

by sublime_jumbles



Series: Grad School AU [1]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: (they're both JUST a mention nothing graphic or even detailed at all), Asexual Karé Kun, Belly Kink, Belly Rubs, Body Worship, Canonically Chubby Snap Wexley, Chubby Poe Dameron, Chubby!Jess, Cuddling & Snuggling, Depression mention, Dog BB-8, Epilepsy Mention, F/F, F/M, Feeding, Feeding Kink, Fluff, Gen, Grad School AU, Halloween, Halloween Costumes, Hand Feeding, M/M, Overeating, Service Dog BB-8, Sleepy Cuddles, Stuffing, Weight Gain, alcohol mention, demisexual rey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-28 03:26:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8430034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sublime_jumbles/pseuds/sublime_jumbles
Summary: Finn love to bake; Poe loves to eat Finn's baking. Jess struggles to shop for costume components; Rey struggles to keep it together in the dressing room. Karé's easy to fluster when it comes to kink stuff; Snap is great at getting her flustered.~the sequel to my someday-forthcoming (i.e sometime post-nanowrimo) Snap/Karé Grad School AU~~ that said, there are some things in here (i.e. poe's epilepsy, most of the kink stuff) that will be explained or given origins in the full and comprehensive GSAU.





	1. something ... extra

**Author's Note:**

> me, a month before the trick or treat yourself deadline: oh cool that would be fun  
> me, a week before the trick or treat yourself deadline: SHIT  
> ~  
> a huge thank you to wy for beta-reading!!! thank you!!!!! i appreciate it so much!!!!
> 
> & many thanks to [roundelet's](http://www.roundelet.tumblr.com) utterly fantastic [prompt generator](http://ficprompt.hazeltw.me/chubbyprompts/) for giving me several jumping-off points for this fic.

“It’s probably holiday weight,” says Poe from where he’s lying on their bed, trying to do up his jeans, and Finn smirks in the doorway, biting his lower lip.

“I don’t think you can claim holiday weight before it’s even Halloween.”

“Halloween is a holiday,” Poe huffs, giving up and exhaling. He sits up, and his belly droops into the space between the flaps of his fly. “A holiday associated with a ton of candy. And besides, don’t play dumb. It’s not like you’re not complicit here.”

“What have I done?” Finn asks, crossing the room and throwing himself onto the bed next to Poe. There’s still the ghost of a smirk on his face, but Poe dishes him up a wicked grin. 

He thumbs at his belly where it’s starting to sag a little, grabbing his sides where they spill over his waistband. He’s just starting to be able to feel a roll form at his sides, and he’s felt Finn trace over that same place when they’re lying in bed, knows it’s driving him wild. 

“Let’s see,” says Poe, dropping his voice a few notes. “‘Babe, I left a batch of pumpkin whoopie pies on the table. Tell me how the icing is?’ ‘Hey, candy was on sale at Target so I picked up a few bags, they’re on the table if you want any.’ ‘I bought all this pumpkin beer, help me drink it.’ ‘Sweetheart, can you taste this caramel apple cake for me? I don’t know if it’s dense enough.’” He scoots closer to Finn and cuddles up to him. “Ring any bells?”

Finn’s cheeks are pink, his eyes wide, almost panicked. “You never say no when I offer.”

“Um, no, have you tasted your desserts? I could literally eat a dozen of those whoopie pies. Or a whole one of those caramel apple cakes.” He shifts, jiggling his belly. “Maybe I will. I can’t fit into these jeans anymore, I might as well.”

Finn’s breathing goes shallow, and he whimpers softly. 

In truth, Poe’s not surprised that he’s grown out of these jeans. He’s been ordering cream in his coffee instead of milk, eating an extra doughnut or two with breakfast when he’s on his way to work, keeping a bag of that discounted candy in his desk to snack on during the day, taking extra helpings of all of Finn’s cooking when Finn inevitably offers. He’d gained a little weight after he’d been discharged from the Air Force, from readjusting to life unhindered by a diet and fitness regimen and trying to distract himself from the fact that he couldn’t fly anymore. He’d been disappointed in himself at first for letting himself fall out of shape, the sensation of padding over his muscles strange and shameful. He’d spent those first couple of months blaming his epilepsy medication and his antidepressants, buying too-large shirts to hide the growing bulge at his waistline. 

But then he’d begun dating Finn a few months later, just as Finn was leaving his retail bakery job and beginning to work on opening his own place, and Poe had gained another fifteen pounds taste-testing recipes for him and gone up another pants size. It was harder to feel bad about his expanding waistline with someone around to constantly reinforce that they found him perfectly attractive the way he was, and he’d decided that maybe it wasn’t so bad being kind of pillowy around the middle, having a spot for Finn to rest his head when they snuggled. Maybe habitually eating half a pie in one sitting wasn’t so shameful when there was someone who wanted him to enjoy it. Maybe, if Finn’s gentle hands on his belly and reverent whispers about how beautiful he was were anything to go by, this was something he didn’t have to feel bad about starting to like.

And then it had come out that all of Finn’s appreciative whispers and belly kisses and offers of seconds and thirds actually translated into a full-blown chubby kink, and then, well - Poe’s up about twenty pounds since then, because it turns out that once he’s embraced it, getting chubby is kind of fun, and teasing Finn with it is even better. 

“Yeah?” says Finn now, his voice hopeful, raspy. “I think - you should do that. When I do all my baking for the party next weekend, maybe I’ll make you something … extra.”

Poe grins. “I’ll be ready,” he says. “I won’t even have to unbutton my pants to make room,” and the look on Finn’s face is  _ priceless _ .


	2. murder by muffin top

“I can’t wear this,” says Jess, frustrated. “This doesn’t - this doesn’t fit, Rey, put it back.”

Rey peers into the fitting room, where Jess is squeezed into a purple spandex jumpsuit. The bulge of her belly is strikingly obvious, her little love handles and the curves of her hips on display as she turns in front of the mirror. Her thighs push together, and she frowns down at her belly as she grabs a handful.

“It’s not so bad,” says Rey, slipping behind the curtain and into the room. “It’s cute, you can see your little tummy.”

Jess’s frown deepens. “Not so little anymore.”

“It’s not that big,” Rey objects, coming up behind her and sliding her hands on either side of Jess’s belly. “I mean, it’s definitely, you know, _here_. But it’s not bad as you think. It’s not bad at all.” She kisses the side of Jess’s jaw.

Jess groans, long and exaggerated, and twists to kiss Rey back. “I don’t know,” she says. “It’s so tight, I don’t like that it just - hangs out, you know? And I know it’s not like we’re gonna be hanging out with anyone who doesn’t know that I look like this, but … it’s still weird for me. I don’t know.” 

“Okay,” says Rey, playing with Jess’s ponytail. “It’s up to you. As long as you wear purple and carry a bow people will know you’re Kate Bishop. It doesn’t have to be, you know, a bodysuit or a crop top or leather pants or anything.”

But _wow_ , the idea of Jess’s soft, round belly spilling from a crop top, or a pair of leather pants hugging her chubby hips is - whoa. A set of thoughts for a different time, is what that is. Rey readjusts. “But I want you to know that I think this spandex looks _amazing_ on you.”

“Thanks,” says Jess, but she’s squinting a little, like she has some idea of what just went through Rey’s head. “Go see what you can find in purple? In like, a 12 or 14?”

Rey sucks in a breath. Jess’s size isn’t _new_ to her, of course, but it’s only recently that she began admitting that a 14 might be a viable option too.

“Coming right up,” she says, regaining her composure before Jess can call her on getting turned on by her clothing size. “Were crop tops off the table, did you say? What about the leather pants?” 

“Don’t you dare,” says Jess, but she’s deflated a little, her mouth quirking up at one corner.

So that means Rey can probably get away with bringing back _one_ crop top. 

She gathers up everything purple and Kate-Bishop-like that she can find in a size 12 or 14, and returns to Jess with an armload of clothing: a couple of tops of varying clinginess, a button-down, a few pairs of pants, a striped mini dress, a couple of pairs of shorts, and one - just one - little violet crop top.

“Just to try,” says Rey defensively when Jess groans. “In case you like it.” 

Jess shoots her a look, pulling on a pair of shorts. “I don’t know if I should try that on right away, or make you wait for it.”

Rey squirms where she’s squeezed herself on the little ottoman in the dressing room. “Oh, make me wait.”

Rey’s not quite sure how to quantify her sexuality, besides _girls_ and more specifically _Jess_. Naked bodies aren’t too thrilling for her, but bodies in the right clothes - that’s something. She loves Jess no matter what she’s wearing, but there’s a particular thrill to seeing Jess wearing a pair of jeans that hug her legs just right, or a top that drapes over her chest and shoulders suggestively, or one of the couple of fancy lingerie sets she owns. Rey had clapped her hand over her mouth the first time she’d pulled off Jess’s hoodie and sweats to discover a lacy blue bralette and matching panties, caught in a tailspin of delight and arousal and awe.

So really, the prize isn’t in watching Jess undress in between outfits, her everyday Target bra and panties flashing as she pulls on tops and bottoms. It’s in seeing the way the clothing fits her, the ways that different items show off different parts of her. She wriggles into the striped minidress, which skims along her hips and showcases her chest and waist, then a pair of shorts that highlights the curve of the small of her back, then a short-sleeved button-down the color of the orchids growing on the windowsill of Rey’s shoebox kitchen that makes her biceps look - Rey rolls her eyes at herself a little, but _luscious_ is the word that comes to mind.

“You’re staring,” Jess teases her as she undoes the shirt buttons. “See something you like?" 

“I dig that button-down,” says Rey, watching Jess’s shoulders emerge one by one as she shrugs out of the shirt. “It makes your arms look nice.”

“Oh, really,” says Jess. She hands the button-down back to Rey, and Rey tucks a hanger inside and begins to do up the buttons. “And I haven’t even gotten to the crop top yet.”

“You could put the button-down over the crop top,” Rey suggests. “Leave it open, show a little skin?”

Jess laughs, flicks at one of Rey’s buns. “Show a little skin for you, you mean. There’s gonna be all of four other people at this party and they’re all dating each other. And you” - she leans in, kisses Rey’s nose - “can see my skin whenever you want.”

“I love your skin,” says Rey, hooking her arms around Jess’s hips and kissing the skin just below her bra. “Wait - sorry - that was creepy." 

Jess shrugs. “‘''Tis the season. Can you hand me those shorts next to you? Kate Bishop wears shorts all the time, but it's going to be like, 40 out.”

“Tights?” suggests Rey, handing her the shorts. “That would be cute. With your high-tops?”

“Aw, you're right. Good thinking.” She pulls on the shorts and exhales, pooching her belly out. Rey chews her lips, sits on her hands to keep from touching.

“I like those,” she says. They're high-waisted, a deep plum, just a few shades shy of black. They're perfect around the tops of Jess’s thighs, just snug enough to look fitted without looking too tight. “Hey, you know how I feel about this, but the high waist tucks your belly in a little.”

“Won't say no to that.” Jess puts her hands on her hips, observes herself in the mirror. “Still got that little bulge around my hips, though.”

“I love that bulge,” says Rey. “Turn around?”

Jess obliges, and Rey takes a deep breath, nods approvingly. “Please look at your ass in the mirror,” she says, “because it has literally never looked better than it does in these shorts.”

Jess cranes over her shoulder. “Oh, shit,” she says. “You're right. I guess these are the ones then, huh?”

“Absolutely,” says Rey. “Try it on with the button-down?" 

Jess throws her a knowing glance. “You'll combust.”

“Probably,” Rey agrees. “But if that's how I go, that's how I go.” 

Jess shakes her head affectionately, reaching for the right hanger.

The combination is perfect. The tail of the button-down ends just below the waistline of the shorts, and although the outfit camouflages most of Jess’s belly, her hips and thighs are plenty visible, their curves highlighted by the clinginess of her shorts.

“That's definitely it,” says Rey. “Ughhh, you're gonna look so good. I can't believe I get to look at you all night.” 

Jess unbuttons the top and shrugs out of it. “I'm not done yet,” she says, a little mischief in her voice. “Give me the lower-rise shorts and that crop top?”

Heat blooms in Rey's stomach. “You're gonna kill me,” she says, and blushes at how hoarsely it comes out. 

Jess smirks. “Murder by muffin top,” she says, and Rey groans.

“Close your eyes,” says Jess, and Rey obeys.

Jess rustles around for a minute or two before she says “Okay, open,” and strikes a pose when Rey opens her eyes.

Rey feels her brain go white for a second. The crop top is snug around Jess’s chest, and its hem hits the narrowest part of her waist, just before her sides curve out again, her love handles lipping over the sides of her shorts. The soft pile of her belly protrudes gently over her waistband, its little cleft directly over the button. The skin on either side of her navel is pink with stretch marks, a few more disappearing down below the waist of her shorts. These shorts - the 12s, Rey remembers - are tight around her thighs, biting into her flesh a little. 

“Wow,” says Rey softly, feeling her eyes widen. “You are _gorgeous_.” 

Jess bows, her belly folding a little. “All for you, darling.”

Rey shivers. “You’re the greatest.”

“Take your last looks,” says Jess, poking at her belly, and Rey leans forward to plant a kiss on its curve. 

“Thank you,” she says, and Jess tips Rey’s chin up, kisses her lips. 

“Any time, as long as it’s just you and me. Now come on, I found my stuff and I’m starving, let’s get out of here.”

“I’ll buy you lunch,” says Rey, still squirming in her seat. “What do you want?”

Jess finishes removing her shorts and hopping back into her jeans before answering. “A cheeseburger, maybe?”

“I would be happy to finance a cheeseburger,” says Rey, gathering up Jess’s reject clothes. “You sure you don’t want the crop top?”

Jess gives her a look as she wiggles into her hoodie. “Not to rain on your parade, but I think I’m good.”

“Fiiiiiine,” says Rey. “But I want you to know that that the image of you in that top and those shorts is going to fuel my fantasies for a long time.”

Jess rolls her eyes. “Whatever,” she says, but she’s smiling. “The look on your face was worth it.”

“I died one thousand tiny deaths,” says Rey solemnly, and Jess laughs.

“What did I tell you?” she says, throwing an arm around Rey’s shoulders and pulling her close. “Murder by muffin top.”


	3. does it need more cinnamon?

Poe wonders sometimes if Finn’s affinity for baking has anything to do with his chubby kink, because not only does it constantly enable him to push treats on Poe, but also he touches Poe’s stomach an awful lot like it’s a mound of dough he’s kneading.

He’s lying between Poe’s legs, pushing and squeezing at the lush flab of his belly, making little whimpery sounds between kissing and biting the soft fat. Poe likes how rough he gets like this, how Finn wants him so urgently that he can’t help but manhandle him. He’s grown to like the way it feels when Finn squishes his tummy around, starting to equate that kneading pressure with arousal. It turns him on to see Finn so worked up, and a couple of bruises on his belly is a small price to pay for that.

“Look at you,” Finn whines, and Poe rolls his hips, pushes his belly up into Finn’s face.

“Yeah?” he says, bringing his hand to his side to jiggle his gut. “Look at all this. You’re making me fat, you know that?”

Finn nods, sucking at the underside of Poe’s stomach. His teeth pinch a little, and Poe bites off a whimper. 

“I’ve gained so much weight with you,” he says, arching as Finn’s teeth dig in again. “I’ve gone up two sizes since we started dating. I couldn’t fit into my old clothes if I wanted to. Or my uniform, hmm?”

Finn buries his face in Poe’s belly. “Oh, god,” he says against Poe’s skin, and Poe squirms. “Your _uniform_.” 

“I’d pop all the buttons without even trying,” Poe continues. “Split the seams when I sat down. And that’s even if I could get it on in the first place.” 

Finn moans. “I wanna feed you out of it.”

“You can feed me out of anything you want,” says Poe, breaking off into a moan as Finn’s teeth close around his skin. “You’re already slowly feeding me out of everything I own. Even my sweatpants are getting tight.”

Finn slips a hand beneath the waistband of Poe’s boxers where his belly is starting to lip over. “And your boxers.”

Poe nods. “They keep leaving red lines on my waist. I’m getting too chubby for them.”

Finn groans. “Can I feed you now?” he asks, his eyes dark with lust, and Poe nods, sits up so that his belly piles in his lap. Finn makes a little noise of longing, but he sits up too, his cheeks flushed a dark red. 

Poe leans in to kiss him, thumb at his jaw. “I’ve been looking forward to this all day,” he murmurs, kissing each side of Finn’s mouth. “Waiting for you to feed me. You know I can’t resist anything you bake. I can’t help but eat the whole thing.” He kisses Finn’s jaw. “I’m getting so fat from your cooking,” he continues, when Finn whines. “And I don’t intend to stop.”

Finn shudders, kisses him full on the mouth, and pushes him back against the pillows. “I’m gonna,” he says, and the rough breathiness of his voice makes Poe gasp beneath him. “I’m gonna feed you the whole thing. That whole pie, all in your belly, until you’re so round you can’t sit up.”

“Go get it,” says Poe, rolling his hips against Finn. “I’m starving, stuff me.”

Finn stumbles out to retrieve the pumpkin cream pie from the fridge, and BB-8 pads curiously through the open door. She leaps onto the bed beside Poe, and he scratches at the place on her shoulders where her fur is always cowlicked from the edges of her service vest rubbing at it.

“Hey, B,” he says softly, and she thumps her tail. “You've gotta clear out of here in a minute, okay? I'll be okay, it won't be for too long. Come on, let's go.”

He shoos her out of the room and almost collides with Finn, who's cradling the pie with such a look of exquisite anticipation on his face that Poe has to reel him in and kiss him as soon as he’s set it down on Poe’s nightstand.

“What’s that for?” Finn asks, breathless. 

Poe shrugs, crawling back into bed and propping himself up on pillows. “I love you. And you baked a whole pie just for me.”

“There’s a lot more where that came from,” Finn says, kissing him again.

Poe smirks, slaps his belly. “There’s going to be a lot more where that’s going, too,” he says, and Finn blushes so hard Poe thinks he might combust. He picks up the fork and the pie from Poe’s nightstand, and considers them for a second.  

“Actually,” he says, “I think I want to see you eat this right out of the plate.”

The idea sends a little shiver down Poe’s spine. He enjoys it when Finn feeds him, but there’s something deliciously decadent about eating it himself, for Finn, directly out of the pan.  “Oh,” he says. “I - I think I really like that.”

Finn’s eyes get wide. “Yeah?”

Poe is already digging out a mountainous first forkful. “Oh yeah.”

The cinnamon and nutmeg tickle his nose a little at first, but the pie is so cool and creamy and sweet that it undercuts their zing easily. It’s a familiar recipe, one that Poe always moans about whenever Finn decides to whip it up. He’s not sure if it’ll be too heavy to eat in one sitting, but he’s sure as hell going to try.

He groans after his first swallow, the indulgent taste of whipped cream lingering on his tongue. Finn whips his own cream by hand; it’s thick and rich and Poe would eat it with a spoon if Finn offered.

He eats in big, luxurious bites, moaning and sighing contentedly as he stuffs his face. Finn watches, rapt, letting out his own soft whines as Poe makes his way through the pie.

After he’s eaten about a quarter, Poe pauses, belatedly covers a burp with his wrist. “Oh, babe,” he says, letting his head loll back against the pillows. He’s just about normally full - if he were eating in public he wouldn’t go further than this, but this is a private show. “This is incredible.” 

“Yeah?” says Finn, getting closer. “How do you feel? Does it need more cinnamon?”

Poe laughs. “It’s got enough cinnamon. It’s amazing. It’s so rich. I feel like some kind of royalty, eating the whole thing myself.”

Finn leans in to kiss him, one hand drifting to his belly. “It’s all for you. All two thousand and fourteen calories of it."

“Holy - _urrrp_ \- shit,” says Poe, palming his belly. Finn’s head for numbers is something else that proves useful to him in baking and kink alike. “I love that you just know that.” 

“It’s got heavy cream _and_ whipping cream,” says Finn. “You’re going to be so stuffed if you finish all of it.” He’s practically drooling, and Poe leans forward to peck him on the nose.

“‘If,’” he repeats. “Oh, ye of little faith.”

“I’m not going to push you if you can’t,” says Finn, but the look on his face says he really, _really_ wants to see Poe scrape this pie tin clean.

Instead of replying, Poe balances an enormous bite of pie on his fork and shoves it into his mouth, moaning as he chews. 

Finn stays close to him, reaching out to wipe bits of cream from his lips, rubbing his belly in gentle circles as he eats. “You’re so round,” he says softly, and Poe leans back a little, pooches his belly out despite the fact that it’s starting to feel like it’s full of cement.

“I’m gonna _look_ like a pumpkin by the time I finish this. I’m not going to be able to move.”

“I hope so,” says Finn, testing the tautness of Poe’s stomach. “I like when you’re all stuffed and sleepy.”

By the time Poe’s about three-quarters of the way finished, he’s starting to _feel_ stuffed and sleepy. His stomach is heavy and swollen, and he can feel his heart beating around all the food he’s crammed into it. He lets out a rumbling belch, and Finn begins rubbing his belly again.

“Doing okay?” he asks, and Poe nods, exhales.

“Just need a minute. I’m so heavy, Finn, god. This _feels_ like two thousand calories." 

His eyelids are starting to get heavy too, and he leans back, does his best not to compress his stomach at all. It feels too full to bend, like he’s got a medicine ball in his gut. The contents of his stomach are pressing down on his hips, starting to crowd his lungs. He tries to inhale as deep as he can, but he can’t get too far before his stomach twinges.

“Hey, hey,” says Finn. “If you can’t finish, that’s okay. Do you need some water or something?”

Poe nods. “Water would be great.”

Finn rolls off the bed with an ease that Poe, in his current state, can’t even imagine. The movement of the mattress jostles him a little, and he lets out a soft groan, palming his belly.

He takes one deep breath after another, his stomach groaning and protesting against the glut of fat and calories and sugar he’s dumped into it. He rucks up his shirt over the crest of his belly, spreads his legs to give himself room to bloat, and when Finn comes back, he stops dead in his tracks and stares.

“You look,” he manages. “God, you look so _good_ like this. All - all stuffed and like. Debauched. Your belly hanging out of your shirt like that, I just - I want to do terrible things to you.”

Poe huffs out a laugh. “Save them for when I can move.”

“No fun,” Finn complains, but he’s fond, his eyes still wanting. He settles down next to Poe again, tips some water into his mouth. “Better?”

Poe nods, although the water just makes him feel fuller. “Can you feed me the rest?” 

Finn pauses. “I - of course, babe. Are you sure? It won’t be too much?”

Poe takes a deep breath, takes stock of his body. He’s stuffed, there’s no question about that. But he thinks he can handle the rest of the pie without being sick. It might push him into a little discomfort, but he has Finn to take care of him if that’s the case. Worst case scenario, he thinks, he’ll have a stomachache, but he can sleep that off, and Finn likes when he eats so much that he has to nap afterward. 

“I’m sure,” he says. “As long as you’re down for a nap after we finish.”

The look in Finn’s eyes is so tender that if Poe weren’t too stuffed to move, he’d melt. “Of course.”

“Great,” says Poe around a hiccup, and opens his mouth.

Finn’s a good feeder. He doesn’t rush, lets Poe take as long as he needs for each bite, strokes his hair and kisses his forehead and rubs circles into his belly in between. Poe’s stomach is swelling further and further forward, and he’s steadily becoming less and less aware of the parts of his body that are not his stomach. He can feel every bite, every calorie, piling up in his lap, and by the the time Finn places the last bite in his mouth, he’s breathing shallowly, feeling like his entire body weighs an extra three hundred pounds. 

“Hey,” Finn breathes, setting the plate and fork aside and carefully maneuvering so that he can slide behind Poe and cradle him. “Hey, you did it. I’m so proud of you, babe, look at you. Do you feel okay?”

Poe burps, chases it with a moan. “Yeah,” he says softly. “Oof. Ow. My stomach’s a little sore, but I’m okay. I’m so heavy, can you feel?” 

Finn strokes his stomach, thumbs over the roundest part of it. “Oh, yeah, I can feel. You’re so gorgeous like this. All the time but this - this is special.”

“Because this is just for you,” Poe mumbles, tipping his head back against Finn’s shoulder. “Ate this aaaaaall - _urrrp_ \- for you.”

“I know,” Finn whispers, kissing his cheek. “I know. You did great.”

Poe groans, sinking down lower in Finn’s arms. “Gonna sleep ‘til Halloween,” he slurs, and Finn kisses the crown of his head.  
  
“Go ahead,” he says, and Poe can hear him smiling. “That gives you a solid two days. I should have plenty more treats baked for you by then.”


	4. in my heart, i'm on the floor

Snap spends all of Halloween afternoon grazing from the trays of cookies Karé is baking, snagging them before they’re even cool.

“Stop that,” she says, swatting his hand away. “There’s candy literally everywhere in my apartment if you’re hungry, save these for later.”

He widens his dark eyes at her. “It’s not like Finn’s not bringing desserts. You know he’s going to come over loaded with like, twelve different things. We won’t run out.”

“I know, but I want to feel like I at least did  _ something  _ besides the bread. I always make bread for this stuff, I want to branch out.”

Snap swallows a bite. “I’m not complaining, I love your bread. And your cookies are fantastic too, if you were wondering. In case you, you know, decide not to serve them at all.”

“Get out of here,” she says, slipping her fingers through his belt loops and pulling him close, going warm when the soft swell of his belly squishes against her. “How’s this? You’re staying over, you get first pick of the leftovers.” She grabs a handful of his stomach and squeezes. “After all, winter’s getting closer, we gotta put some padding on you.”

He laughs, and she feels his belly move against her. He kisses her forehead, rubbing his hands down her sides. “Need me to do anything in the meantime? Keep me out of your hair in here?”

She chews her lip. “You got the booze?”

He nods. “Plenty of booze.”

“Wanna hang some spiderwebs and shit for me? Rey brought them over yesterday and I think she and Jess were going to do them, but they got … distracted.”

“Someone discover their cobweb kink?” he asks, quirking an eyebrow, and Karé wrinkles her nose.

“You’re gross. Go hang some webs.”

“Anything for you,” he says, swiping a couple of cookies for the road. She rolls her eyes, pretending to be exasperated, and catches the kiss Snap blows her around a mouthful of cookie.

Her cookies are not too shabby, she thinks, scooping out a ball of dough and rolling it flat. She and Jess have been using the same thrifted set of Halloween cookie cutters for every holiday for years now - just the cookie flavors change, and the designs if Jess decides to decorate them for the appropriate occasion - her specialties are turning pumpkins into dreidels and witches’ hats into shofars when Hanukkah and Rosh Hashanah roll around. The ones Karé is baking now are caramel-ginger-pumpkin; the ones Snap keeps stealing are double-chocolate oatmeal and cut into painstaking coffin shapes. She knows Finn will show up with something elaborate - he mentioned meringues last time she checked in with him, and something about a pumpkin cream pie, although she’s not sure if that was intended for, uh, public consumption.

“How’s this look?” Snap calls from the living room, and she peers around the corner and immediately forgets how to breathe.

Snap is perched on the little stepstool Jess keeps around to reach the high kitchen shelves when Karé isn’t home, looking pretty proud of himself for having hung some decorative bats amid the cobwebs. He’s still working on nestling one into the gauze, and the angle his arms are raised at gives Karé a perfect view of his belly where his shirt rides up on it. It hangs over his waistband so far that she can’t see his belt, and she can see far enough to know that his love handles roll over too. He’s gotten wider in their year together, the roll beneath his ribs thicker and more pronounced, his belly rounder and softer in his lap when he sits. 

“Wow,” says Snap. “That scary, huh?”

She manages a smile. “Oh, yeah. That and your, uh” - she gestures on herself - “your overhang there. Takes my breath away.”

He grins. “I didn’t realize, sorry. Good thing you’re not the one on the stepladder, you’d be on the floor.”

“Oh, believe me,” she says, leaning in the doorway. “In my heart, I’m on the floor.”

He nods, satisfied. “Then I’m doing my job as a good boyfriend.”

She smiles. “You know, I think Finn probably  _ is  _ going to bring enough desserts for all of us. Want to come see how much cookie dough you can eat?”

He succeeds in lodging the bat in the cobwebs and turns back to her triumphantly. “Hell yeah I do,” he says, hopping down from the stepstool. “I’ve got a costume to strain, don’t I?”

Karé feels like she’s walked through a ghost. “You definitely do,” she says, anticipatory chills skittering down her spine. “Cookie dough is good for that, I hear. Come on.”


	5. hope you saved some room

It’s probably not the rum that’s making Karé dizzy so much as the hollow of Snap’s belly button under his canary-yellow T-shirt. It’s framed by an unzipped green hoodie and gray trench coat, and she watches him adjust his belly where it’s resting on the counter as he mixes drinks. Jess found a recipe for something called zombie cocktails online, and the primary ingredient seems to be rum.

Karé sinks into one of her kitchen chairs beside Finn, who’s dressed as Captain America circa the Howling Commandos. It takes Karé a moment to realize that he’s wearing Poe’s old military fatigue pants and boots, and she can see the blue and white of a Captain America logo t-shirt peeking from between the lapels of the brown leather jacket he’s commandeered since Poe stopped being able to zip it over his belly.

Finn sips at his beer, petting BB-8 while watching Poe, Jess, and Rey engage in what appears to be an exploration of how their D&D characters would dance. Rey is clad in a pair of purple sweats and a white t-shirt with a purple target on it, and there are white band-aids stuck up and down her arms, one pinched across the bridge of her nose. She’s got a quiver of arrows on her back, and she’s drinking her cocktail out of a chipped white coffee mug. Poe, for his part, is wearing a dark grey t-shirt layered under a red henley, beat-up jeans, and a silver glove on his left hand, a navy baseball cap jammed over his curls. Judging by the way they’re laughing and gesturing, Jess and Rey are a few drinks in, and Poe’s well into his second beer.

“It’s like magic,” Poe had told her tipsily, a little after he was discharged, once he’d started his epilepsy meds. “I used to be able to do shots of, what’s it called - the octopus, you know -”

“Kraken,” she’d supplied.

“ _ Yes _ ,” he said, raising his beer bottle to her. “Used to do that. And now - my tolerance is shot. Two beers and I’m gone.”

Finn is watching him now, looking so fond and so wondrous he might burst from it. It makes Karé smile - the way he gazes at Poe with open adoration has always tugged at her. Lately she’s caught herself looking at Snap that way, and more and more often, she’s noticed that Snap looks at her that way too.

She can feel herself growing sappy, and she shakes her head a little to clear it. Rum makes her moony sometimes, and if she gives into it now she’ll be useless the rest of the night.

She clears her throat and turns to Finn. “No D&D for you?” she asks, shifting in her seat to face him. He smiles into his glass, shakes his head.

“Nah. Not my thing.” He takes a long sip of beer and looks back at her through his eyelashes. He smiles slowly. “Usually I bake something while Poe’s at D&D. So he has something to eat when he gets home.” He raises his eyebrows. “You know?”

Karé’s stomach jerks. “Oh, I know.”

Finn’s eyes go dreamy. “And you know, someone always brings snacks to D&D. They just sit there and eat.”

“Oh, yeah,” she says, sipping her cocktail. “Snap keeps coming back with these stories about entire pans of brownies and like, maybe I gotta take up D&D now too, you know?”

Finn laughs. “I know, right? And he sits there and eats all afternoon and then comes home and -” He stops, takes a breath, like what he’s about to say is going to take a lot out of him. “And lets me stuff him.”

Karé grins. “Oh,  _ damn _ , Finn, get it! You guys have a whole routine and everything, wow. Usually I just throw a bunch of leftovers at Snap like ‘here, eat these.’”

“That’s not true,” says Snap, sitting down on her other side. “Sometimes you specifically order out for it. Like that giant pizza we got last week. That  _ tub  _ of fried rice a few months ago.”

Karé blushes, and Snap grins, adjusting the large, curving ram horns he’s wearing with one hand and taking her hand with the other. “I’m not complaining,” he says. “I like your method. I like cuddling up with you and picking stuff out.”

He moves his hand to stroke at the thin green wings she’s wearing, poked through slits she cut into the short tan cloak she found while thrifting with Jess. “Well, I’m glad you like it,” she says, “because unless I start hiring Finn to bake for us, I’m never going to hit that level of expertise.”

Finn laughs. “Once I get the bakery to a place where I can afford to give things away, I’ll give you guys a ton of free stuff. Make you a little punch card or something.”

“Thanks in advance,” says Karé, twisting to reach for a few of Finn’s wares off the counter. “These are incredible.” 

His meringues are shaped like little bones, his rum balls are iced like eyeballs, and his éclairs are decorated like fingers, complete with painted fingernails, and when Karé bites into hers, raspberry jam leaks out like blood. Snap is munching on a plateful of spiderwebbed cheesecake and cupcakes carefully frosted to look like sutured wounds. Jess contributed a tub of spinach dip with five carrots sticking out of it like a gnarled hand poking out of the ground, and earlier Karé watched breathlessly as Snap absently ate three quarters of the bowl of dip with, she estimates, about half of the loaf of olive bread she baked for the occasion.

“Thanks!” says Finn, beaming. “I figured I’d leave anything that’s left over with you guys, because we …” He blushes. “We have plenty at home.” 

“Are you sure?” says Karé, even though the idea of feeding all these treats to Snap makes her heart race. “You did make them, are you sure you don’t want any back?”

Finn bites his lip. “All this stuff I brought over? This is  _ half  _ of what I made.”

This is especially staggering, considering that Finn brought enough to feed about thirty regular people - i.e., people who aren’t Snap or Poe or Rey, whose slim body betrays an enormous appetite. “Oh,” says Karé. “Okay then, uh, yeah. I guess you guys are covered.”

As the party goes on, Karé watches Snap devour more and more of their snack inventory, his hands gravitating to his belly more and more often. He’s moving a little more slowly now, his eyelids a little heavier, and the further she gets into her third cocktail, the more she starts feeling like she’s developing tunnel vision for him. 

Across the room, Poe and Finn are cuddled up on the loveseat; Jess and Rey are wedged into the same armchair beside them. Finn and Rey are having a slurred but spirited conversation about comics over Jess and Poe’s heads. Poe’s hiccuping intermittently and looking a little droopy, eyes closed and a languid smile on his face. BB-8 is at his feet, sleepily thumping her tail, and Poe and Jess are holding hands across the gap between their chairs as Finn plays with his hair. According to Jess, she and Poe used to be each other’s drunk buddies in college, and Karé supposes the habit hasn’t died yet. 

Snap settles down on the couch beside Karé with a glass of water for each of them, and once he’s handed off hers, he tucks his free hand under his trench coat to pull his waistband away from his stomach. “Oof,” he sighs. “I’m getting a little full.”

“Hope you saved some room,” she says, leaning her head against his shoulder. She sneaks a hand onto his belly, feeling the thick roll of spare tire that forms above his hips when he sits, the heavy curve where his underbelly meets his thighs. She thumbs at it, and he rubs at the top of her thigh in response, his hand warm against the fabric of her black leggings. “We have so much food.”

“I knooooow,” he moans, tilting his head against hers. His horns get in the way, and he pushes them back on his head until they’re no longer intrusive. “I don’t know if I can eat it all tonight, but I definitely, definitely want to eat some of those éclairs out of your hands later. Suck some of that jam off your fingers. Maybe eat some of those rum eyeballs off you.”

She goes stiff, gently pinches his stomach. “Shhhhh,” she hisses. “We have  _ guests _ .”

He grins. “They’re not listening. Besides, we already talked to Finn about this, he knows what we’re going to do with his leftovers.”

“True,” she concedes, folding her legs beneath her to warm her bare feet. He shifts his glass to his other hand and puts an arm around her, stroking her hair where she dyed the ends teal for her costume. 

“I like your hair like this,” he says softly. “Are you going to keep it?”

“Until it washes out. If it doesn’t fade weirdly then maybe I’ll do it again.”

He kisses her hair. “Neat,” he says. “I love you, space wife.”

“I love you too, space husband.”

She’d gotten a little nervous considering the implications of dressing up as a married couple when Snap had first suggested Alana and Marko as their couples’ costume. On Jess’s recommendation, she’d brought it up after a week or so of anxiety about whether or not Snap thought they were that serious already.

“Is it weird?” she’d asked, without any preamble. “That we’re gonna dress up as husband and wife?”

A look of horror had crossed Snap’s face, and she’d taken some relief from that. “Oh, my god,” he’d said. “That’s not what I - I mean, like, not that it’s anything against you, of course, of  _ course  _ not, but - oh my god, I did not think about that at all. I just thought, hey, we both like the comic, we kinda look like them, it would be a pretty easy costume. I’m not trying to drop any hints, I swear.”

She’d exhaled. “Thank god,” she said. “I’m perfectly happy to be your space wife for one night, but - that’s my hard limit for now, I think.”

“Yeah,” he’d said, with so much gravity it was almost comical. “Yeah, that’s about where I’m at.”

“Good,” she’d said. “So we’re cool with that?”

“We’re cool with that,” he’d said, and now, curled against him on the couch, she tipsily thinks that maybe, one day far in the future,  _ maybe _ , she could see herself being Snap’s Earth wife too. 

It’s not much longer afterward that Finn hauls himself and Poe upright, gets BB-8’s leash, and declares that their Uber is on its way. Once they’ve said their goodbyes - Finn whispers a sly little  _ have fun _ in Karé’s ear as he hugs her - Jess and Rey get up too.

Jess stifles a yawn. “Do you want any help cleaning up?” she asks, propping herself against Rey. “We can do a little before we go to bed.”

Snap smirks. “I think we’ve got it covered,” he says, and Karé covers his face with her hand.

“We have  _ guests _ .”

“Ah,” says Jess, looking enlightened. “I gotcha. We’ll, uh. Leave you to that, then.”

Once they’ve headed off to Jess’s room, Karé peels off Snap’s trench coat and hoodie. “This,” she said, poking at the indent of his belly button, “drove me crazy all night.”

“Oh, really?” says Snap, and she tries very hard not to laugh at the juxtaposition of his coy expression and his tremendously crooked horns.

“Take those off,” she says, doing it herself. “And - scoot a little, you’re pinning my wing to the couch.”

He moves, swinging his legs up onto the cushions, and she wedges herself along the couch lengthwise as he stretches out beside her and props a pillow behind his shoulders. She rests her hand on his belly, rubbing gentle circles into it over his shirt.

“Still hungry?” she asks, and he nods.

“Somehow. I’m always hungry when I’m drunk.” 

“As if you’re not hungry the rest of the time,” she says. She pauses to kiss his neck. “Before you get too comfy, do you want to go pick out what you want me to feed you?”

“That means I have to get up,” he whines, but he hauls himself up, a little unsteadily, and lumbers off to the kitchen. 

She tosses his jacket and hoodie onto the armchair and checks her phone to find a series of Snapchats from Poe. Half of them are completely dark, various Halloween-themed filters framing the void of the photo. One of them is marked  _ 21.87 miles per hour _ , so she guesses these must be Uber snaps. The next few include Finn’s exasperated smile, a flower crown and several heart-eyes emojis superimposed over and around his head; a close-up of BB-8’s eyes and snout; a blurry shot of Poe’s forehead and Finn’s chest, as well as a snatch of the beige fabric of their couch; and a pizza box with one slice missing, decorated with heart emojis.

Snap comes back in time for her to replay the snaps for him, and he laughs, settling against her. “I guess it’s reassuring to know that both of us are still hungry even after eating  _ literally  _ all night,” he says, and she mouths at his double chin in reply, because  _ oof _ , that’s fun to hear him say.

He’s piled several éclairs on his plate, along with a handful of rum balls and a few of her caramel-pumpkin-ginger cookies. “Can you bake cookies more often?” he asks as she’s sucking a bruise into his neck. “These were incredible. Like, sure, Finn’s a great baker and all, but I really like eating your stuff. His is always so fancy and elaborate and yours - I don’t know, this is corny, but yours always tastes homey.”

“Awww,” she says, pulling away from his neck. Her whole body feels warm and rosy, in a way that’s entirely separate from his body heat seeping into hers, and entirely separate from the rum. “Thank you, that’s sweet. I can do that more often. Maybe I can finally teach you to make something.”

“Oh, like I asked you to a  _ year  _ ago?” he teases. “I don’t know, now that we’re into it, I kind of like that the process is all a mystery. You perform some witchcraft over some ingredients and  _ bam _ , suddenly there are cookies.”

She pushes an éclair into his mouth. “Don’t call out my secrets like that,” she says as he chews, flipping her cloak over her shoulder. “Not during the witching hour, on the national witches’ holiday.”

He quirks an eyebrow at her. “Okay, so Drunk Karé will admit that she is, in fact, a witch. I’ll add that to the list of things that constantly surprise and entrance me about you.”

She feels herself blush. “Get out of here,” she says, feeding him another éclair, and once he’s done chewing, she leans in to kiss him.

“You might want to eat those rum balls off me before you’re too full to move,” she says softly, tracing his lips with her index finger, and she has to admit - he  _ does  _ look entranced.


	6. trick or treat!

Down the hall, Rey can’t keep her hands off Jess. They’re both drunk and drowsy - Jess perhaps more than Rey - and snuggled up beneath Jess’s covers, costumes still on.

“You can take my clothes off,” Jess drawls, rolling her hips. “I’m not gonna sleep in these tights.”

“I like your clothes,” Rey protests. “You look amazing. I looked at you all night. It was great.” She squeezes a handful of Jess’s stomach, kisses her cheek. “I wanna keep looking at you.”

“Look at me without my clothes on,” Jess whines. “I’m too tired to take them off, you do it.”

“You should drink water,” says Rey, between kisses down Jess’s neck. “You’re drunk.”

“You’re drunk,” says Jess. “You drink water.”

“We’ll both drink water,” says Rey, biting at Jess’s soft jawline. “After I’m done looking at you.”

She moves to straddle Jess’s hips and undoes the first button of Jess’s shirt, then the second. She expects to see bare skin, maybe part of a bra as she moves down, but instead, there’s a peek of purple fabric after the next button, and Rey squints. 

“What are you wearing?”

Jess grins, and Rey undoes the rest of the buttons in a hurry. “ _ No _ !” she says delightedly, pushing the sides of her shirt aside to get a better view. “You bought it!”

“Trick or treat!” says Jess proudly, and Rey doesn’t stop to consider that it doesn’t  _ really  _ make sense. “You never even guessed.” 

The crop top looks even better framed by the button-down, dark against Jess’s pale skin. Rey runs her hands down the curves of her sides, feeling how soft she is, how smooth, and can’t help but squishing some of her pudge around, feeling the way it gives. In the moonlight filtering through the window, her stretch marks look like silvery striations in marble.

“Sit up for a sec,” she says, and when Jess pushes herself upright, Rey gently slips off the button-down, tosses it aside. She admires the way Jess’s belly spills into her lap like this, gracefully sloping down from the end of her top. “Okay,” she says, “you can lie back down if you want to,” and Jess flops back like sitting was a lot of effort.

Rey stretches out between her legs so that her face is level with Jess’s stomach, covering its soft expanse with kisses. “You are so  _ much _ ,” she says, because that’s the only way she can think to express herself right now. “I love you and you are so much.”

Jess reaches down, strokes her hair. “I love  _ you  _ so much,” she says, and Rey smiles around a kiss because that’s a good way to put it, too.

She mouths at the underside of Jess’s tummy, rolling her chub between her teeth just enough for Jess to feel it, not enough to hurt or leave a mark. Jess doesn’t mind that, usually, but she’s complained a few times that Rey’s force modulation disappears when she’s drunk, and Rey doesn’t want to risk hurting her. 

“‘S nice,” Jess murmurs. “I love that even when I don’t like my belly, you love my belly.”

“Of course,” says Rey, smooching it. “Of course of course of course.”

When she’s indulged herself enough in loving on Jess’s belly, she helps Jess prop herself up on a couple of pillows and gives her stomach a little final pat before ducking out to grab water for the two of them.

The lights are still on in the living room and kitchen, but that apparently hasn’t kept Karé and Snap from falling asleep squashed onto the couch together, facing each other, an empty plate perched on the arm of the couch by their heads. Karé’s tucked against the back of the couch, and Snap’s draped over her just enough to keep himself balanced on the rest of the cushions. He’s probably twice as wide as she is, Rey estimates absently, turning the lights off on them. 

She returns to find that Jess has managed to get her tights and shorts off, red marks pressed into her skin from the front seam of the stockings and the button of the shorts. Rey kisses those spots too.

“How are you doing?” she asks, settling beside Jess.

Jess cradles her glass of water in two hands. “I’m good. I’m sleepy.”

“Drink that and then we can sleep, okay? Maybe take your bra off.”

Jess shrugs.  “’S a sports bra, it’ll be okay.”

Rey laughs, nuzzles at her cheek. “Okay, if you say so.”

Jess drinks her water in gulps, finishes with a soft burp that makes Rey’s heart jump with how cute it is. She kisses the back of Jess’s neck, then drinks her own glass, sets them both on Jess’s nightstand. 

“All right, girly-girl,” she says, slipping off her bra through the sleeve of her shirt. “Hawkeye’s checking out for the night. Let’s go to bed.”

Jess bunches up against her, back to Rey’s front, and Rey gets comfortable against her, inhales the woody coconut scent of her shampoo. “Thanks for that little surprise,” she whispers, pushing Jess’s hair back from her ear. “I really liked that.”

“I really liked that you really liked that,” Jess whispers back, reaching behind her for Rey’s hand. “Pretty good Halloween costume, right?”

“Absolutely,” says Rey, squeezing her hand. “Let’s do this again next year.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, i want to talk about this more on [tumblr](http://www.alittlepudge-neverhurtnobody.tumblr.com). thanks for reading!!


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